The Wanker
by Laicamiel
Summary: Harry tries to confide in Hermione. Slight HG, implied DHr. [oneshot]


This has been up on FictionAlley for a while... I hadn't realized it wasn't up here. Enjoy, and please review!

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The Wanker 

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"Hermione." Harry's muffled voice emerged from where he had buried his messy head in his folded arms on the table.

"Yes, Harry."

"I am an utter _wanker_."

Hermione smiled into her coffee cup. "Yes, Harry."

He pushed up from the table and gave her his patented put-upon-Potter glare. "You aren't supposed to _agree_ with me!" he protested indignantly.

A bright head popped into the kitchen, a mischievous smile on its owner's face. 'About what, may I ask?'

Hermione beckoned Ginny into the sunny room. "Harry is lamenting his status as, and I quote, 'an utter wanker.' What do you think?"

Ginny smirked. "Oh definitely. Although, are we speaking figuratively here, or literally? Because I really can't account for the latter…"

Harry choked on his coffee and flushed so deeply he looked like an out-of-season Christmas ornament, with his green eyes and red cheeks.

Hermione shot a thoroughly scandalized look at the other girl, but there was an unmistakeable glint of humour in her eye. "Yes, well, be that as it may, Ginny," she remarked in a mock lecturing tone, "I think Harry meant he's a complete idiot. Isn't that right, Harry? And I absolutely agree with him." She gave him an arch look.

Harry gave her a hurt look. "Hermione! You should be supporting a bloke in his time of need. I'm having issues here!"

Hermione sniffed. "I don't pander to anyone's ego, not even yours, Mr. Potter." She shifted from her joking manner to a more concerned expression then, however, and looked keenly at her friend. "What's the matter, Harry?"

Harry looked uncomfortable, glancing quickly at Ginny, then back down at the tabletop. "Oh, well… it's not that serious, really…"

"Don't avoid the question. You brought it up, and I'm perfectly willing to help you, but honestly, you'll have to – "

Ginny interrupted Hermione's rapidly mushrooming tirade, realization blooming on her face. "It's about a _girl_, isn't it?" she cried delightedly.

Harry blushed again and rubbed the back of his neck, looking like he wanted to disappear. "Erm, ye – no. I, ah..." He frowned and hunched his shoulders a bit. "Look, I don't want to talk about it anymore."

Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Harry, then why did you – !"

Harry made a face at her, annoyed. "I changed my _mind_, okay? Is that _allowed_ around here, Miss 'I-need-some-more-time-Ronald'?"

She winced and looked down, biting her lip in distress.

"_Harry_!" hissed Ginny indignantly.

He dropped his eyes to the tablecloth and sighed, rubbing a hand through his already cowlicked hair. "Sorry Hermione. You know I turn into a real arse when I'm anxious about something."

Ginny glared. "No kidding."

Harry glared back. "I was talking to _her_."

Ginny raised her eyes to the ceiling and turned toward the window, making a big show out of looking out at the frozen garden, which was admittedly sparkling prettily in the winter sunlight.

Hermione shook her head at their antics, but shrugged her shoulders and gave Harry a wry grin. "No problem." She looked at him sternly. "But you _have_ to tell me later," she said, cutting a quick look at Ginny, showing that she understood the reason for his reticence.

He flashed her a relieved smile. "Right. 'Course, Hermione." He felt like a bit of heel, as he always did after an argument with her, no matter who had won. It seemed to be an inevitable pattern in their friendship. Her forgiving nature tended to bring out the worst in him. The pattern had existed between them for so long that it was almost comforting in its familiarity.

Hermione glanced at her watch and jumped from her chair with a distressed cry. "Oh! I'm late for my meeting with Malfoy! He's going to get snide with me now, I know it," she sighed, gathering her bag and papers from the table.

Harry and Ginny shared a concerned look over her bushy head, their brief moment of animosity forgotten. "Hermione, are you sure – "

She gave a gusty sigh, her cheeks pinking in irritation. "Yes, Harry – it's a _perfectly_ _amiable_ working relationship formed on _mutual_ _respect_, and I shouldn't be late if we've agreed on a time – it isn't _professional_! And don't tell me you and Ron don't act put-upon and melodramatic if I'm late to meet one of you!"

He grinned. "Well, we have to have something to hold over your head – you've got us beat in every other department."

"Oh tosh," Hermione said, flushing with pleasure this time, before flying off in a whirl of blue robes.

The kitchen was silent for a moment in the aftermath of Hermione's frenzied departure. There was an awkward moment before Ginny met Harry's eyes and grinned, and then he was relieved at this sign that she wasn't stoked at him any longer. It always gave him an unpleasant feeling in the bottom of his stomach when she was mad.

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," he quoted, eliciting a full laugh from Ginny, rippling out from her mouth, shining her eyes and sending tremors through her whole frame. Harry reflected that Ginny laughed like she did everything else – unreservedly.

"Mmm." She dropped into the chair opposite him. "I have a feeling this little get-together isn't going to be as 'professional' as she wants us to think. Honestly, have you ever known Hermione Granger to wear periwinkle blue to a business meeting?"

Harry shook his head. "Last time she wore that colour was at…" he screwed up his face in concentration.

"The Yule Ball, my third year," supplied Ginny.

"Right," he nodded. His mouth twisted. "I'm trying really hard right now to ignore the fact that Hermione has a crush on Draco Malfoy – that maybe _he_ even has one on _her_! It doesn't bear thinking about." He shuddered.

Ginny snickered. "Oh, I've been in denial since she came home from the Ministry two weeks ago with rosy cheeks. _Singing_." She sighed. "I try not to think about it too much."

They lapsed into an almost comfortable silence. Harry raised his cooling mug to his lips.

"So, Harry, tell me," said Ginny soberly, her brown eyes grave.

He looked up with relief at the apparent change of subject, although her seriousness made him wary. "Yes?" he asked with slight concern.

She grinned. "Are you really a _wanker_?"

Harry choked on his coffee.

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End file.
